hi guys i'm really sorry i'm not on much tonight i'm goofing off on another blog while trying to get tomorrow's homework done so i'm not shooting myself in the face after work
um here is my senior picture for munday instead??
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hi guys i'm really sorry i'm not on much tonight i'm goofing off on another blog while trying to get tomorrow's homework done so i'm not shooting myself in the face after work
um here is my senior picture for munday instead??

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if any marvel blogs wanna do a thread, or if anyone knows of a marvel blog that would wanna thread with an spn character, you should totally like this because crossovers are literally my favorite thing. just saying.
Dean Winchester+Sawyer Hawkins | Ezekiel's Unmasking
"Sam!" Sawyer called out but within seconds she was knocked to the ground by one of the three demons that she and Sam were currently tackling. Sawyer turned her head in time to see it happen. Samâs eyes suddenly snapped open and shone with a brilliant blue light. Sam got to his feet and a pair of charred angel wings sprouted from Samâs back. Sawyerâs own green eyes widened in utter shock.
The light in Samâs eyes grew stronger until it was so bright that Sawyer had to close her eyes as the room exploded with light. When she dared to open her eyes the three demons lay dead on the floor, Sawyer looked up at Sam who canted his head at her before he offered her his hand to help her up. âThere is no need to be alarmed, Sawyer.â Sawyer hesitated then took his hand and was pulled up onto her feet. âWhat the hell are you?â She breathed.
Sawyer sat atop the counter top and waited in silence, she didnât look at Ezekiel he had tried to start a conversation once or twice but now he had given up. She hadnât spoken since his explanation for what had happened, she was still mulling it over in her own mind, the cogs constantly turning, positively grinding as she tried to keep a lid on her emotions.
As soon as Dean entered the room all hopes of Sawyer being calm were dashed. She looked up at him with a face like thunder and jumped down from the counter, marching straight up to him and resisting the urge to slap him. âHave you lost your fucking mind?â She said in a raised voice. âSawyerâŚâ Ezekiel said softly and Sawyer raised a hand to silence him. âNot now.â She said focused on Dean. âWhen exactly did you plan on telling me that thereâs an angel riding around in Samâs body?â She demanded heatedly.Â
Ugh, great. It was bad enough that he'd nearly had his ass handed to him by Abaddon-- worse, even. That chick had been this close to tearing off his anti-possession tattoo and wearing him as a meatsuit, and that really would have sucked, to say the least. Dean had been sure that she was gonna let him off with a dislocated shoulder, too-- but, lucky for him, it just felt really sore. It wouldn't set back their plans by too much, thankfully.
For a split second, Dean had worried as he saw the bright light practically consume the building that he knew Sam and Sawyer had been in. It had taken him a moment to remember Ezekiel, and then he relaxed a little. One smart comment to Abaddon later and she was gone, and he was hurrying into the building--
Only to be confronted immediately by a very peeved Sawyer. Like he really needed to deal with that right now. Dean ran a hand through his hair, and drew in a deep, deliberate breath, his mind immediately coming up with a clear response. Yeah, she had a good reason to be pissed-- but Sam's life had been on the line. She had to see reason to that, at the very least.
"I wasn't going to," Dean replied-- and, oh, that definitely wasn't going to be winning him any good guy points. "Listen, I couldn't take the risk, alright? Nobody else knows. Sam can't know. He was dying back there, okay? And I had to save him, I couldn't let him-- This was the only way. Zeke's only putting Sammy back together, and then he's gonna be gone, alright? I get that you're mad-- and believe me, I won't blame you. But at the very least, I need you to stow it, and go on pretendin' that nothin's wrong. If Sam ejects Ezekiel-- and I have a strong feelin' that he would-- he dies. So he can't even have a clue."
Dean sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If it makes you feel any better at all, you're the only one who knows...?"
á´ ÉŞs Ňá´Ę á´ŇŇá´á´á´ÉŞá´É´ | á´á´
Castiel kept himself busy with a nice cup of coffee and a warm croissant. He wrote stories on the side, some⌠adult stories, and others childrenâs stories heâd hoped to get published someday. Mid-drink, he heard the phone vibrate and removed it from his pocket, pressing the talk button before he placed it to his ear. âIâm assuming youâre calling to let me know my car is done⌠yes? Okay, Iâll be right there.â He said with a smile, hanging up and tucking the phone into his pocket before he started to pack everything up, paying for his food and drink before he exited the coffee shop and walked straight towards the small mechanic shop. Castiel was excited, to say the least⌠he owed Dean a lot for taking care of the problem so quickly. This meant he could get right back to work tomorrow. He hated staying away for too long, the kids seemed to dislike change and not seeing the teacher they were so used to usually made them slightly upset. Walking into the back where the car is parked, a brow arched. Something just looked different⌠was it washed? âDid you⌠wash my car?â He asked curiously, a small laugh coming from him before he glanced over at Dean with a warm smile. âWell⌠I was really nervous about this entire thing but I can see now youâre a really good guy.â He removed his checkbook and pen, tapping the small pad with the tip. âTell me what i owe you, and Iâll write a check.â And if Dean said he didnât owe him anything, he was just going to scribble down an amount and hand him the check whether he liked it or not. Dean had a child to take care of and this money could easily pay for things she wanted or needed, so he wouldnât take no for an answer. âAnd before you think of declining⌠Iâm going to say Iâll just scribble down a random number and tuck it into your pocket so you canât decline.â He said, offering a devious smile.
Dean hung up after confirming to Castiel that the car was done, and he grinned a bit to himself in satisfaction as he gave the vehicle another once-over. It looked good as new-- at least, as far as a 1999 model went. "Well, ain't you lookin' pleased. Think you're gonna get in good with Mary's teacher by kissin' ass?" Bobby asked from his spot beneath another car, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he replied. "I ain't kissin' ass, alright? He helped me, I help him, now we're even."
"Whatever you say, Princess," Bobby grunted, and Dean flipped him off and straightened himself out. He was standing right beside the car when Castiel had returned, and he sheepishly ran his hand through his hair when Castiel noted that he'd washed it. "Well-- figured it wouldn't hurt. Your car oughta be runnin' smoother than before, too. Did an oil change, put air in your tires, all that fun stuff." If he had to be honest, he was pretty proud of his work. And, he'd been very careful and attentive to his work-- any problems Cas might have in the future would have nothing to do with any of the work that Dean had done.
"Shucks," Dean replied with a grin. "You're makin' me blush." As Castiel pulled out his checkbook and prepare to write an amount down, Dean was prepared to tell him not to worry-- but Cas beat him to it. He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're gonna play it that way-- Here's the deal. No need to worry about the tune-up or the washing. It's really not a big deal. A good battery usually goes for a hundred bucks-- but we usually charge a bit less anyway. Get me a coffee and I'll charge you sixty." Dean really didn't want to charge Castiel the full amount either way. Sure, money was nice, but he could let this one go.
this computer mouse sucks wow what happened

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alright i'm calling it quits for the night
i think i have my computer class tomorrow so i'll try to get some other replies done during then, if not then i'll do it at home. homework comes first tho, because i gotta do two day's worth now that i've got work and crap starting tuesday.
á´ ÉŞs Ňá´Ę á´ŇŇá´á´á´ÉŞá´É´ | á´á´
"I think thatâd be best." He really didnât want to make Dean think he was going to drop dead right then and there, but asthma attacks were hard to control and difficult to maintain. He hardly ever needed his inhaler, but he always had it on him just in case. Following behind the other, he pulled on his jacket and slowly stuffed his hands into the pockets to keep them from getting cold. It was cold enough for him out here, considering he had lack of muscle or body fat He smiled and nodded his head, clearing his throat. "Iâll be okay, Iâm sure I would of lasted another hour two in there but I didnât want to risk it." He chuckled, biting down on his lower lip before blue eyes glanced back to to the other through thick glasses. "Iâve got my laptop in my bag." He patted it gently, before he pulled the strap close. "I suppose I can go to the coffee shop if itâs going to be a few hours." He honestly didnât want to leave, in case the other needed to question him. So, he took initiative. Removing a pen, he grabbed the others work worn hands with his own (which were practically baby soft) gently writing down his number on the others palm. âThatâs my cell⌠if you need anything or have any questions about the car, you can call me.â He said with a smile, recapping the pen before he tucked it away. Walking to his car and removing the scarf from it, he wrapped it around his neck and tucked it into his coat. âCall me when youâre done.â He offered a friendly smile, before he walked passed the other and down the street towards said coffee shop with hesitation; Upon arrival, he sat down near the window and let out a sigh, opening up his laptop after ordering a coffee and a croissant so he could kill the time. So, he started up Microsoft word and began to type a story heâd been writing in his pastime, slender fingers clicking away at the keys. It was the best way to kill time and wait for a phonecall from Dean.
Dean nodded again in understanding in response to Castiel's words. "Yeah-- yeah, I get you. I would've probably been the same way, to be honest, so don't worry." And, maybe Castiel would have been fine in there, after all. Dean couldn't have known, and he'd rather the man was comfortable. He'd much rather any of his clients and customers be comfortable above all else, and Dean knew that was hard because of the environment. Maybe he ought to invest in getting a separate waiting room where the smells and fumes couldn't waft in. Perhaps he'd give that a try once he actually had money.
Once Castiel had mentioned having his lap top, Dean relaxed a bit. He would have felt bad just sending the teacher off on some sort of aimless journey for an hour or two. At least he had something to entertain himself with as Dean worked. "I'm sure I can get everything done in less than a few. I won't have any other cars to distract me, no extra weight to worry about. I'd wager under two hours, even." Dean prided himself in being efficient. He got the job done quickly, and he got the job done right one hundred percent of the time. Dean didn't like being anything less than perfect. The workings of a car just came easily to him. It all clicked like he was born with the knowledge. Bobby sometimes would tell him that he was better at the job than his father ever was. That fact had pleased Dean even more.
Castiel had then grabbed his hand, and Dean was surprised by how soft the man's hands were. He was also surprised that it was the first thing that had popped into his mind. God, he had changed. But, in all honesty, the differences between his own hands and Castiel's made it all the more obvious. Dean almost couldn't help but wonder if Castiel had ever used his hands before. He almost hadn't even realized that he had the man's phone number on his hand until Castiel had pulled back. He couldn't believe that he'd gotten distracted by god damn hands-- and this was so, so cheesy.
Still, Dean nodded. "Right, will do," he replied with a mock salute, pulling his cell phone out to quickly punch in the number. If he managed to get something on his hands that could have smudged the number or just covered part of it, Dean would have been fucked-- God forbid he had to actually walk a little ways down the street just to retrieve the man. Once Castiel had left the area and had disappeared into the coffee shop, Dean returned to the garage, popping up the hood of the car, and getting to work on replacing the battery.
Approximately an hour and a half later, the car had a new battery and ran even smoother than before thanks to a little bit of quick fixes by the mechanic, and Dean washed his hands and called up Castiel to report his success.
yourspiritoryourblog replied to your post: oh, jeez. my dadâs gonna try to quit smoking...
You must tell him that I believe in him and he can totally do it.
i will fdhjdsfs thanks
oh, jeez. my dad's gonna try to quit smoking again.
Claire doesn't catch Dean to keep him from falling (he's too heavy for that), but to lay him gently onto the floor. "Dean?" She shook him a little. She started to reach into her purse but stopped. Slowly, she lifted up his shirt to take a long look underneath. Smiling softly, she took out a bottle from her purse and from that she tapped out a small white pill. She broke it under his nose. Smelling salts, it should wake him immediately.
And Dean did. He woke up with a start after smelling the salts, rubbing his head. âJesus,â he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. It took him a second to register his surroundings, and then glanced up at Claire, blinking. âWhat happened?â he managed, cringing as his head started pounding. He must have gotten hit real hard, or something.Â
Claire stood and held out her hand to help him. Â âBefore? I feel like thereâs a story behind that. Â Or are you just being metaphorical.â
Dean took her hand, climbing back to his feet. He wobbled a little, before stretching his arms. He shrugged. "Bit of both. Guess I should've said 'nearly.' Unless it was on a Tuesday, but I'd rather not talk about that one. Might be in one of them books. But, yeah. Nearly, too many times to count."

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My muse has just awakened from a coma and cannot remember anything about their life prior to their coma. What would your muse do in attempt to help them regain their memory?
Claire doesn't catch Dean to keep him from falling (he's too heavy for that), but to lay him gently onto the floor. "Dean?" She shook him a little. She started to reach into her purse but stopped. Slowly, she lifted up his shirt to take a long look underneath. Smiling softly, she took out a bottle from her purse and from that she tapped out a small white pill. She broke it under his nose. Smelling salts, it should wake him immediately.
And Dean did. He woke up with a start after smelling the salts, rubbing his head. âJesus,â he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. It took him a second to register his surroundings, and then glanced up at Claire, blinking. âWhat happened?â he managed, cringing as his head started pounding. He must have gotten hit real hard, or something.Â
"You picked up a bottle I had on a table and opened it." Â She tucked the smelling salts away. Â "You really shouldnât poke around in the belongings of witches. Â Donât you hunters know better?" Â She smiled at him.
Dean grunted, and rubbed his temples again. That seemed about right. "You'd think we would," he replied. "Most other hunters probably would. Curiosity has been the death of me before."
"Among other things." Â Claire sipped her latte. Â "I was here on business, after all. Â Iâll need to arrange for transport for what Iâve purchased." Â In other words, she had to make sure the wards were strong enough and that the cocatrice egg wouldnât be jostled or that it wasnât too close to hatching. Â She wondered what Deanâs reaction would be if he knew she was in the possession of a deadly creature. Â It was destined for a sorcerer in Maine who needed a guard for his treasury. Â At least, thatâs what he told Claire. Â At any rate, she wasnât sure the hunter would understand. Â "I can be ready to go in the morning. Â Is that soon enough?"
Dean nodded, finishing up his coffee. Whatever other business Claire had to take care of, Dean knew he didn't need to be involved in anything else-- especially with all that witchcraft business. Even if there wasn't much to be getting involved in, he was more content to let her do what she needed to do, and not worry about what exactly it was that she was doing. "Yeah. I've got a motel just around the corner from here," he replied. "If you wanna meet me there when you're ready?"
Snarky flirty Dean, Iâve missed you.
Claire doesn't catch Dean to keep him from falling (he's too heavy for that), but to lay him gently onto the floor. "Dean?" She shook him a little. She started to reach into her purse but stopped. Slowly, she lifted up his shirt to take a long look underneath. Smiling softly, she took out a bottle from her purse and from that she tapped out a small white pill. She broke it under his nose. Smelling salts, it should wake him immediately.
And Dean did. He woke up with a start after smelling the salts, rubbing his head. âJesus,â he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. It took him a second to register his surroundings, and then glanced up at Claire, blinking. âWhat happened?â he managed, cringing as his head started pounding. He must have gotten hit real hard, or something.Â

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" stop being so -" finish it in my ask.
ow fuck my foot idk what i just did but ow